The Adventures of Sophie Taylor in Neverland
by Partners in Fanfiction
Summary: Dr. Sophie Taylor, a descendent of J.M. Barrie himself, discovers the identity of her father before her grandmother dies. Trouble is, he's a fictional character who never grew up. With the assistance of a pirate captain/sex god, can Sophie get her revenge? Rated M for language and smut
1. Chapter 1

Sophie Taylor adjusted her thick glasses as she followed the nurse up the stairs to her grandmother's deathbed with her left hand. He right hand held her oversized purse so tightly that if it were a balloon it would have popped by now. Her left hand went back to her purse when her glasses were straight again and held on even tighter. The nurse opened a door and revealed, laying on a king-sized bed four times her size, a shriveled-up gray body that looked already dead. But when Sophie's grandmother opened her eyes and looked at her, she realized that she wasn't dead just yet. "Is that you, Sophie?"

"I'll be right outside," the nurse whispered before exiting.

Sophie sat in a chair by the bed and said, "Yeah, Grandma, it's me."

Her grandmother managed a smile. Although she had more wrinkles than a raisin, Daphne Taylor was elegant. Even when she was at death's door, she was still lovely. She croaked, "You've graduated college now, haven't you?"

"I have a doctorate, Grandma," she said. "In literature. Remember?"

She shrugged. "Just my memory."

"It's okay," she said. "I just got it a week ago."

As if she forgot what they were talking about so soon, she said, faded blue eyes gleaming, "You look like your father."

The identity and whereabouts about Sophie's father were unknown because her mother, whom she hadn't seen since she was thirteen years old, wouldn't talk about it and neither would her grandmother. Sophie returned to London at her grandmother's request, also hoping to find out who he was. "Who is my father, Grandma?" she asked. "Who?"

Her grandmother squinted. "The hair's a bit different, though. It's the eyes. You have your father's eyes."

She had been told that her eyes were her best feature. They were different shades of hazel and, according to everyone else, would look just as pretty without the rectangular black glasses and perhaps with just a little liner. But Sophie was against makeup and didn't "feel right" in contacts. The shape and color of the eyes were unlike anything of her mother's side of the family. The silky straight brown copper hair apparently skipped a generation because her grandmother had it, but there were no color pictures to prove it. "Grandma, I need to know who he is."

"You're old enough to know now, I suppose," she said.

At the age of twenty-five, she probably was. "Tell me."

"Well, you know that we are descendants of J.M. Barrie, correct?"

James Matthew Barrie was her grandmother's great uncle or something, and her favorite author by far. "Yeah, of course," she said.

"He had quite an imagination, didn't he? Well, do you ever wonder where he got it?"

"Sure."

She scooted a smidge closer with a quiet grunt. "Neverland is real."

Sophie's eyebrows raised. She had practically memorized the books and knew a lot of random facts about Barrie, but him being real…crazy. "Grandma, you're on medicine, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes," she said firmly. "I do. Peter Pan returned to the window of one of his homes to visit him, but found me instead. He took me to Neverland once or twice, but eventually stopped coming. For a very long time, until your mother was thirteen years old, he had returned and spent so long with her that they both grew up a lot. He wasn't much of a boy anymore. You were conceived when she was seventeen and he appeared the same age. Sophie, Peter Pan is your father."

Sophie saw Peter Pan as a necessary character, but certainly not her favorite. From the first time she heard the stories, she was more interested in the pirates—so much that she minored in marine biology. If Peter Pan really was real, Sophie wanted to find him and kick his ass for abandoning her. But although she was a hardcore fantasy freak, she couldn't believe it. "Grandma…you're acting crazy."

"No, Sophie, no," she said. "I'm not crazy. Don't you remember all those stories I told you inserting myself in them?"

Her grandmother had told her stories about Neverland from her own perspective. Her favorite was when she got lost in the forest and wound up in the harbor and found Captain Hook. Peter Pan saved her, but Sophie was always curious about Captain Hook and what he was actually like. This was when she was very young, young enough to really believe it rather than just enjoying it. "I just thought they were, like, self-insert fan fiction," she muttered.

Her grandmother shook her head as much as she could, which wasn't much. "No. Everything happened. Peter visited your mother and me in this very house, but the windows, your grandfather changed when he sent your mother to New York, so he can't let himself in anymore. But there's a way you can get to Neverland yourself."

"Is it guaranteed?" Sophie asked, not wanting to waste her time doing something silly to find a fictional place. As much as she loved her grandmother and wished she could believe it, Peter Pan could not possibly be her father.

"Of course it is," she said. "This one, at least." She sighed. "Sophie, you have all the time in the world and I don't even have one hour." Her grandmother only breathed, heavier and heavier. Sophie hurriedly took her hand and fought tears from coming out of her eyes. With her free shaky hand, Sophie's grandmother pointed to the dusty vanity across the room. "In the drawer in the middle, you will find a bottle that contains glitter. It's pixie dust." She looked into Sophie's eyes and said with a hopeful smile, "I know you'll make a right choice."

Daphne Taylor died on a Wednesday afternoon.

One tear escaped from Sophie's left eye as her grandmother's eyes fluttered closed and her smile faded. That tear, that ran down in a hurry and landed on her knee, was the first that had shed since she was fourteen years old and she hoped it would be the last.


	2. Chapter 2

The nurse had left with the body, leaving Sophie in the house that she probably inherited. Sitting at a dusty vanity, Sophie stared at the sparkly substance that only filled half of a little glass bottle topped with a cork that was about the size of her palm. Pixie dust. It wouldn't hurt to try. But if she were going to Neverland, she'd have to gather some stuff. She got up off the stool by the vanity and picked up her messenger bag. In it was her ancient copy of Peter Pan, a pen and notebook, fifty dollars, a compact mirror, her cell phone and, hidden in a pocket, a switchblade knife she carried around just to scare muggers. There were many in NYC, but they were all cowards and didn't even carry real guns. A dull but shiny weapon would make them flee. She didn't know or care if she needed it, so she kept it in there, just for a rainy day. She left her suitcase and pea coat downstairs by the door and went down to retrieve it. From her suitcase she picked out a change of clothes—a plain dark blue T-shirt, a black sweater and a pair of jeans. She would be warm enough in the long dark blue skirt over leggings and combat boots and the black sweater she already wore, plus her coat. It was cold outside, and if it was so warm in Neverland that she had to shed a few layers, she would. But as someone who lived in the cold for most of her life, she was always cold. Back upstairs, she put her bag on her shoulder and then put on the pea coat. Then, she opened the window and felt a gentle breeze come in. Sophie took off the cork of the bottle and shrugged before spilling the glitter on her head. _Now…what do I think about_? she wondered. Anyone who had heard the story even once would know what to do, but perhaps not on the spot because she really didn't know. Sophie looked in the mirror and saw that the glitter had dissolved into her hair. She gasped a little and closed her eyes. She thought of Captain Hook and how gorgeous she imagined him to be. She imagined sailing away and doing whatever she damn well pleased whenever, considering she hadn't since she got into the Ph.D. program.

All that thinking made her bump her head. She opened her eyes and found herself off the floor, her head rubbing against the ceiling. Her mouth dropped and she leaned forward towards the window. "No freaking way," she muttered as she floated towards the open window. She went out the window and was able to close it from the outside. When it was closed, she turned away and saw the sunset behind Big Ben in the distance. _Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. _She went as high as she possibly could to prevent being seen as a person _flying_ and then followed the sun.

At first, she felt crazy—flying over London just under the clouds and way higher than the birds and going nowhere, until somehow the world got darker and she was breathing in outer space. _Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning._ Sophie shrugged and kept going, faster and faster by the second until the white spots against the black surface surrounding her disappeared and there was light reflecting from what she realized when she touched it, water. She lifted her head and found herself flying to a colorful, majestic island that could only be Neverland.

Sophie looked down as she flew closer to the land. The harbor at the edge of the island was bustling like the subways that would take her to the park on the rare weekday morning she didn't have any work to do in her later college days. Everyone in New York had places to go, stuff to do and it seemed there was nothing that could get them to delay whatever it is they were doing. She wondered if they were anything like the colorful characters that were seen back there, which perhaps wasn't enough of a happy thought because she began to fall from the sky. In an attempt to land safely, she tried to keep her legs apart and stand up straight, but she wound up falling on her back, the rough wood floor just missing her head. Luckily, she wasn't hurt and her glasses were intact, even though she couldn't make out the figure that stood above her. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them to see a man, bending down a little to offer his left hand. "Thanks," she muttered when she was back on her feet. She got a better look at the man and recognized him immediately. It was the eyes. A shade of blue that she had never seen anywhere before. The rest of him screamed pirate—the outfit, the handsomely rugged features—but the eyes she had seen in movies and imagined in stories, but now they were real. This was confirmed by the metal hanging out from his right sleeve. This was Captain James Hook, standing right in front of her, and she didn't know what was stopping her from releasing her inner fangirl that rarely came out even in private. She gave him a friendly smile like a mask hiding her excruciating nervousness and said, "Ah, uh, thanks. Uh, still getting this flying thing down."

"I see," he said. "You're not from around here, are you, Miss…"

"It's _doctor_," she said for the first time. She imagined her first time introducing herself as Dr. Sophie Taylor to someone she hadn't met would make her feel high and mighty. But she still felt like an ant compared to him, even though she wasn't any more than three inches shorter than he was. She held out her right hand, then realized he didn't have one to shake, so she switched it with her left. "Uh, Sophie Taylor, Ph.D…in literature, not medicine."

"Well, _Dr._ Taylor," he said, taking her hand in his heavily callused left hand. He flipped it so her palm was facing the floor and gently pressed his smooth lips against her knuckle. "It's a pleasure."

Her cheeks felt hot, which could only mean she was blushing as he released her hand from his gentle grip. "Uh, same to you, Captain Hook."

He raised an eyebrow a little. "You know my name?"

She pointed to his right hand, or hook, and nodded. "Yeah. Never met anyone who doesn't. Except…you're a character in a children's book."

"I knew that," he muttered. "But am I truly _that_ famous?"

She nodded. "And…apparently, so is my father."

"Your father?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Sophie said. However, she didn't want to go into detail, fearing she'd run out of time. Or perhaps she was just too nervous to function. "I mean, my grandma thinks he's my father but I really don't know…I mean, I didn't think any of this existed."

Now he was absolutely befuddled. "You're Daphne Taylor's granddaughter, aren't you?"

Sophie nodded. "Yeah. Know anything?"

"Only that you have every reason to hate him," he said.

He knew, but she didn't care at the moment. "Yeah, that's why I'm here," she said. And then she realized how brash her decision to just go was. "I didn't really think this through. I guess…I just need to find him and…" she shrugged. "Kick his ass." She gave him a little smile. "Thanks for your help, Captain." She awkwardly saluted him and all she needed to do was think of the way he kissed her hand to send her shooting in the air like a rocket, and flying like a hawk when she was high enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Sophie didn't know what she was looking for as she soared above the trees in the forest, the thought of her entrancing encounter with Captain James Hook keeping her high in the thrilling air. Suddenly, she saw tiny figures below her in a spot in which the trees weren't so close together. She went down to sit on a thick branch of one of the surrounding trees to get a better look. Six boys, all in clothes made out of torn, dirty cloth, leaves or animal hides were playing. None of them was Peter Pan. She sighed wearily, until she heard a cackle come closer and closer. She turned her head but didn't get a good look at the kid who flew through the tree, pushing her to the ground, probably unintentionally. It wasn't much of a hard fall because she slipped down the tree, but when she landed flat on her face in the dirt with no suave pirate captain to save her, it hurt a little. "God damn it," she grunted, lifting her face. She didn't have the will to sit up again, so she went back down and groaned. She saw from the corner of her eye seven pairs of dirty little feet, and then a few knees. One of them used a stick and flipped her over onto her back. She looked at them and recognized Peter Pan immediately. The blonde mop of waves on his head, the green leaves he wore. But it was his eyes that gave it all away. Emerald green, the exact shape and color as hers. It was strange, though. Sophie was a fully-grown woman with a doctorate, and this was a boy no older than sixteen. She propped herself up on her elbows and after wiping the dirt off her intact glasses with her shirt and putting them back on, she said to him, "You're Peter Pan."

"Yes, I am," he replied. His voice was somewhat childish, but cracking. "Who are you?"

She held out her hand, expecting them to help her up. Two of the smallest boys, twins, got her up. They were all much shorter than her, except for Peter Pan. She was a forehead taller than him. "I'm…" She was angry! Although this _boy_ was unfit to be a father, he was one and he abandoned her! She was the adult in this situation. They had to respect her. She tightened her lips and said, "Dr. Sophie Taylor."

"You're a doctor?" a chubby boy with a torn brown striped shirt said. He lifted his torn right sleeve and said, pointing to a mosquito bite. "What's this? Am I gonna die?"

A skinny boy with greasy brown hair groaned, "How many times do I have to tell ya, Tootles, it's a _mosquito bite_."

"First of all, I'm not that kind of doctor," Sophie said. "I have a Ph.D in literature. But yes, that is a mosquito bite and if you scratch it, it'll only hurt worse."

Peter Pan narrowed his eyes at her. "You're a grown-up."

"Yep," she said. "And, erh, I've been looking for you, Peter Pan." She unzipped her bag and pulled out her wallet. In it was a photograph of her mother at the age of sixteen. "Look familiar?"

Peter took it in his dirty hands. "Hey, that's Marie Taylor!" He looked at his friends and said, showing them the picture, "Remember Marie?"

They all nodded or gave a cheerful affirmative response. Sophie took the wallet back and put it back in. "Uh, Marie Taylor was my mother. Don't really know what happened to her, considering I haven't seen her in twelve years." She didn't know how to break this news to him. "Well, it's not as really depressing as meeting my father for the first time in a quarter of a century."

"No way," Peter Pan said. Sophie thought he was going to admit, but he didn't. "Captain _Hook_? She grew up and got with Captain _Hook_?!"

Her face turned red. "You freaking idiot!" she exclaimed. She took out her compact mirror and grabbed Peter Pan by his neck so he could look in the mirror with her. Their eyes matched. "Look familiar?" she hissed.

He gasped quietly. "It…it can't be."

She released him and closed the compact mirror. "It is."

"What is it, Peter?" a boy with frizzy blonde hair said.

"I…I didn't know," Peter Pan muttered.

"Ashamed?" she snapped.

"No!" he exclaimed.

A boy with longer frizzy brown hair and not much in the way of a shirt said, "C'mon, just tell us!"

"Peter Pan is my father," she said. "For real this time. Not make-believe."

All of the boys looked at him in shock, and then talked over one another in shock until Peter Pan drew his sword from his belt made of a vine and threatened her with it. "Go away. I don't want to see you."

"You owe a lot of money in child support, jackass," she hissed. "You haven't seen the last of me."

She turned, expecting to find a happy thought somewhere, but couldn't. so she just marched away for either five minutes or five hours. No matter what, she was far away and tired now. She sat down against a tree and held her cheeks in her hands, elbows against her knees. Both of her cheeks were very wet. The last time they were this wet was when she took a shower. But she hadn't showered since, and there was no rain. For the first time since she was fourteen, she was crying. "Oh, god _fucking_ damn it!" she wailed. And for the first time since she was fourteen, she had expressed anger. "Mother fucker…literally," she grunted. Sophie was never one to talk to herself, to yell at people out of anger, not even to curse, really. Something changed. Something snapped, and she didn't know what to do.

She heard the faint sound of bells coming closer and closer, until something tapped her shoulder and whispered, "What's wrong?"

She turned her head to the left and saw a tiny gold figure, the size of both of her largest middle fingers put together, flying thanks to wings. A fairy. She wore a mid-thigh green sparkly dress and her gold hair was put up in a messy bun. She was adorable. Sophie sniffled and realized she couldn't deny that something was wrong. She was crying and it was obvious. There was no way she could lie, either. "Just found out who my father is," she breathed. "Really awful encounter…" she sighed. "I kinda hate my life right now."

"Lemme guess," the fairy said. "Peter Pan is your father and he broke your heart." She sighed dreamily. "Happens to every girl he comes near."

She raised her eyebrows. "How'd you know?"

"I was his fairy companion for a zillion years, and then all of a sudden he grew tired of me and threw me away," she squeaked angrily. "I'm Tinkerbell. Who are you?"

"Sophie Taylor," she said.

"That can only mean you're Marie Taylor's daughter, hmm? How's she doing?"

"Wouldn't know," she replied. "Haven't seen her since I was thirteen."

"Hmm. Well, it was about around the time she and Peter, _y'know_…when he abandoned me. I think he's in denial that he's sort of a man now and will do anything to maintain his status as a boy, even if it means shunning you."

"He shouldn't have sent you away if he still wants to be a kid," Sophie said. "That doesn't make any sense."

She gave her a smile. "Gee, I never thought of it like that. That makes me feel better about this."

Sophie smiled back. "That's cool." She then sighed and stared into space. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. I told him this wasn't the last he'd see of me. I'm bent on revenge. Just…_ugh!_" She buried her face in her hands again and grunted, "I haven't been this weirdly stressed since…my first midterm in college!"

"Well, what did you do then to calm down?"

Sophie took a breath and smiled fondly. "Well, I did the midterm of course, but I went back to the dorm after and spent a while lying face-down on my bed, until my roommate, Ayita, dressed me and brought me to a wind frat party. I was seventeen years old and they didn't even care. They got me really drunk, and I amazingly didn't get into any trouble. What cured my awesome hangover was finding out that I got one hundred percent on the midterm."  
"Hmm. Well, if you have any gold coins, there's a tavern at the harbor."

She raised her eyebrows at the fairy. "You drink?"

"Sometimes," she said. "Turned to it after Peter left me. I don't have any money with me, though."

"I, uh, have some British pounds," she said. "I don't want to get too drunk. Just unwind a bit."

"Same here. Let's take care of each other, okay?"

Sophie stood up and asked, "Uh, is my money any good here?"

"Should be," she said. "C'mon."


	4. Chapter 4

Tinkerbell soared up into the sunset. The thought of actually having some fun with her favorite female fantasy character made Sophie follow just as fast. They flew above the trees and to the harbor. "Down we go!" Tinkerbell called. This time, Sophie landed gracefully on her feet. Above her was a sign with no words, just a sloppy painting of a pitcher filled with some alcoholic beverage. "Here we are," she said. "The Chaplin Pub."

Sophie opened the door for her new winged friend and she zoomed in before her. Sophie then stepped inside and scoped the scene. The tavern was one large room with a balcony above where there was less drinking and more card playing. Down where they entered, however, there was drinking and dancing, but mostly drinking. The bar at the other end of the room had many seats available. Tinkerbell said over the cheering, laughing and piano by the left side of the bar, "Hey, I know the bartender there! He'll give us drinks for free!" She zoomed to the bar and laughing, Sophie followed.

She sat down and got the bartender's attention by clearing her throat. He was a bearded middle-aged man with tired but kind eyes. He saw Tinkerbell sitting on the bar in front of Sophie and smiled at her. One of his front teeth was missing and the rest were either yellow or silver. "Well, hey there, Tink. Who's your friend?"

"Hi, Ned. She got some bad news and needs to relieve herself."

"Ladies' room's upstairs," the bartender said before laughing at his own joke. He then turned around and retrieved two bottles of beer and a tiny cup. He filled the cup to the brim with one of the bottles and handed the other, opened, to Sophie. "On the house. Anything you need, just gimme a holler, Miss, erh—"

"It's Doctor," she said. She took a little sip of the half-foul and half-tasty beer and added, "_Dr._ Sophie Taylor."

"A lady doctor? Well, that's grand," he said. A new person sat down at the other end of the bar before he could add anything, so he went to go take his order.

Tink was drinking from the cup like a dog from its bowl. It was twice the size as her bright face but it was almost hilarious how fast and eagerly she was doing it. "Is something going on with you, too, Tink?" she said.

Tinkerbell looked up as she wiped the moisture from her face. "I'm angry at him, too. For you."

"Hmm," she murmured. She raised her bottle only a little and said, "Well…to us. We're girls and we don't need any, uh, guyfriends or fathers."

Tinkerbell smiled and pushed her cup to clink against Sophie's. They both drank, but Sophie was interrupted mid-sip by the sound of a crash. The pianist had fallen down off the seat, probably drunk because of all those bottles at his feet. There were some laughs, but the bartender shook his head in shame at him. He exited from behind the bar and dragged him by his feet out the back door. On a whim, Sophie picked up her drink and went up to the piano. She put the drink on the bench beside her and cracked her fingers. She hadn't played in a very long time, and wasn't even near drunk but didn't need to be to humor the pirates who stared at her in wonder. "Here goes nothing," she whispered to herself. No turning back. She pressed a key, and then another, and on and on until she realized that she was playing _Box of Rain _by Grateful Dead.

_Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day_

_Maybe the sun is shining, birds are singing_

_No rain is falling from a heavy sky-y-y_

Everyone cheered, clapped and whistled. She took one quick peek back and saw people crowd around the fence around the loft to watch her.

_What do you want me to do, to do for you, to see you through?_

_For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago_

She took one quick drink before going straight back to playing with a huge smile on her face, unlike anything that ever found its way on there before.

_Walk out of any doorway, feel your way, feel your way like the day before_

_Maybe you'll find direction_

_Around some corner where it's been waiting to meet you_

_What do you want me to do, to watch for you while you are sle-e-e-eping?_

_Then please don't be surpri-i-ised when you find me dreaming too_

Another quick drink, and then more as if she hadn't stopped.

_Look into any e-eeyes, you find by you, you can see clear to another da-a-ay_

_Maybe been seen before, through other eyes on other days while going ho-o-o-ome_

_What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you thro-o-ough?_

_It's all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago-o-o._

_Walk into splintered sunlight_

_Inch your way through dead dreams to another la-a-and_

_Maybe you're tired and broken_

_Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclea-a-ar_

_What do you want me to do, to do for you, to see you through?_

_A box of rain will e-e-ease the pain, and love will see you thro-o-ough_

_Just a box of ra-a-ain, wind and wa-ater_

_Believe it if you need it, if you don't just pass it on_

_Sun and shower, wind and rai-i-in_

_In and out the window like a mo-o-oth before a fla-a-ame_

_And it's just a box of rain, I don't know who put it there_

_Believe it if you need it, or leave it if you dare_

_And it's just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair_

_Such a long long time to be gone, and a short time to be the-e-e-e-e-ere_.

Sophie looked back at the amazed crowd. "That's all I got," she said with a shrug. The crowd went crazy, cheering and clapping and whistling. She got up off the bench and picked up her drink. On the way back to the bar, she surrendered her hands and giggled. When she was back down, she saw Tinkerbell, the cup with only a few drops remaining, rolling on the bar laughing. "S-S-Sophie, th-that was great!"

She chuckled and moved her cup away. "That's enough for you, Tink."

"Well, _Dr. Taylor_," a smooth voice she had heard very recently but couldn't recognize immediately said. She turned her head and noticed Captain Hook himself, sitting one seat away. "You're a woman of many surprises."

"Me?" she said. "My grandma's golden rule—all children must learn to play an instrument_._ So, she got right to work when I moved in with her."

"Ah, yes, and how is Daphne?"

"Dead," she said. Looking straight ahead into space, she realized out loud, "Wow, this has been an eventful day. I travel across the Atlantic to the UK, see my grandma die, fly off my home planet and to a fictional world, meet my father, befriend a boozehound fairy—" Tinkerbell only laughed louder "And perform a classic in front of a bunch of drunken pirates."

"Well, my condolences to your grandmother," he said. "How did your encounter with Pan go?"

"Terribly," she sighed. "He got defensive, and I just got all…angry. And I'm the most mild-mannered atheist female in the world."

Tinkerbell began to breathe again and sat up. She gave Captain Hook a smile and said, "Oh, hey, look, it's Cap'n Hook. How are you doing, Cap'n?"

"Very well, thank you, Tinkerbell," he replied.

"So you guys aren't sworn enemies anymore?" Sophie said. "My grandma said, when she came here, back when you were on Peter Pan's side, you were just as determined to kill him as he was."

"Yeah, but then when he abandoned me, we found a common enemy," she replied. "So we're allies now. Someday, we're gonna take him down, aren't we?"

Captain Hook chuckled, his lips curving up into a smile in concurrence. "Yes."

Then, Sophie came to a realization. When her mother was sent to live alone in New York with financial aid from her parents, she said to her father before boarding the plane, "I don't love you." She said the same thing to her own mother later. But Marie did love them, enough to accept his money and thirteen years later, trust her mother to take care of her child that she loved enough to not abandon in an orphanage all of a sudden. Upon arrival in England, Sophie went through a long phase in which she didn't understand anything. She didn't understand why her mother abandoned her, although it wasn't quite that, nor if she should or shouldn't hate her mother forever for abandoning her. Daphne Taylor helped her through all this, and at one point she had said, "That's it, I hate her! I hate my mother!" to which her grandmother replied, "She said that to me, too. But she loved me enough to give you to me." Looking back at this, Sophie realized that was the last time she was legitimately angry. These old emotions that were now back and seemingly here to stay overwhelmed her. She got off the stool she sat on and said, "If you'll excuse me, guys, I, erh, just need to take a little walk."

She didn't let them reply. She just rushed out of the room and once she was outside under the stars, she flew to the forest where things were quieter. How she flew, she didn't know, considering there were no happy thoughts present, but she did. She landed in a spot lit only by the bright full moon, but that was enough. The trees and flowers, she noticed as she tried to get her mind off these parasitic emotions, were straight out of a fairytale book. Unrealistic. Photoshopped. She ran her hands over the trunk of a tree and it felt normal. As if her world wasn't crazy enough as it was, she threw her arms around it and hugged it, pretending it was her grandmother even though it was much too big. Eventually, she remembered that her grandmother was at the funeral home, awaiting her funeral in two days. She released the tree and kept walking, mindlessly humming _Box of Rain_ while thinking those very unhappy thoughts some more. Not only did she choose Columbia University because she got a full scholarship after graduating high school at the age of sixteen, but it was conveniently in New York, where her mother lived. She spent her days in class, learning everything, and her nights continuing to learn by studying and trying to find her mother. The shabby apartment she lived in had been knocked down and the new owners of the lot, who were building a posh new apartment complex, had no idea where to find the landlord who'd have information of her whereabouts and neither did her grandmother. There were no friends to ask for information, no employers, no teachers, nothing. She thrived in school, but she didn't think her accomplishments made her eight years in New York successful. Her hard work prevented her from making any friends with the exception of her loveable roommate, whom she lived with and therefore practically had to be friends with.

The sound of bells, all chiming at different tones and levels into a song, snapped her out of her painful cogitation. A light came from the hole of a hollow tree four or five yards away. Sophie went about to investigate, but then had to look up when she heard girlish giggling. Peter Pan and a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen, were waltzing in the air. The despicable look on her face screamed _I'm in love_. "Oh, Peter," she said dreamily. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Jackass," Sophie growled. If he brought her distant relative J.M. Barrie, her grandmother and her mother over, there must have been others. His cheating heart could move on from one girl (or author) to another. He obviously didn't take a moment to reflect on his encounter with his daughter by whisking this poor girl to his fantasyland. That made her forget that it's impossible to truly hate him. There was a rock at her feet. Before Peter Pan could reply awkwardly as the awkward _boy_ he was, Sophie threw it at them and hid behind the nearest tree, watching the reaction. It had apparently hit Peter Pan in the nads because he fell to the ground, grunting and writhing in pain. Sophie covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a laugh as the girl knelt by his side and exclaimed, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I…I don't know," Peter Pan said as he managed to sit up. He picked up the rock and examined it. He then looked back and shouted, "Who's there?!"  
With no regrets, Sophie showed herself and said, "Ah, well, fancy meetin' you here."

The girl helped Peter Pan back on his feet. He leaped closer to her and took out his knife. "What are you doing here?"

"Going for a walk," she said. "Why, is this your legal property? Am I trespassing? Are you going to sue me?"

"W-who's this, Peter?" the girl mumbled anxiously.

"Nobody," he spat.

"That's right," Sophie agreed in an even harsher tone. "Nobody. And neither is my grandmother, mother, but _especially_ me."

"W-what is she talking about?" the girl squeaked.

Peter Pan held the knife a little closer, glaring at her. Sophie valiantly responded to this action with, "You wouldn't. Only grown-ups can kill their own children. Boys are too meek to."

"She's your—"

"Mhmm," Sophie said to the girl. "What's it gonna be, _Dad_? Prove you're a man by killing your young, or staying a boy and running for your life?"

Peter Pan groaned and put his knife back. "You frustrate me so!"  
"Not as bad as you frustrated a girl you said you loved," she retorted.

He turned away and said to the girl, "Let's go, Danielle."  
"Wait, Peter," she said, stopping him from taking another step away. "Y-you said I was the only one."

"Are you serious?" Sophie said. "Kid, have you ever read _any_ fanfiction? OCs, all OCs! Have you ever come across one that wasn't a goddamn Mary Sue?"

She gave a little giggle. "Well, there was this one crazy chick—"

"PeterPanForever99?" Sophie replied. "Annie Fitzgerald?"

"Enough!" Peter Pan cried out.

"You're not the only one," Sophie said. "Believe me, I hate to say it and I really wish you were, but…you're not."

Her face turned red and she looked at Peter Pan square in the eye before slapping him hard across the face. "Take me home _this instant_, you cheater!"

"But Danielle—"

"Now! Home!"

He groaned. "You're no fun, anyways."

As they flew away, Sophie felt her muscles relax. Although he certainly wasn't gone and she had yet to actually be satisfied with a response from him, a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. As he disappeared into the night sky, it got colder, but the music and light coming from the hollow tree didn't even fade away. In fact, it hadn't stopped. She finally got a look inside and saw golden lights, fairies, dancing inside. She smiled at the sight and watched for a while until something tapped her shoulder. She gasped quietly and turned to find Captain Hook standing behind her, "Do excuse me, Dr. Taylor," he said. "But may I simply commend your skillful way of handling that obnoxious little…brat."

He spoke of Peter Pan disdainfully, which Sophie replied to with a smile. "Really? I think I may have been a little harsh, but whatever. Not like that whippersnapper has a heart or anything." She sighed irritated and looked back into the tree. "Take a look at this," she whispered to him, turning her head for two seconds towards him with a smile. He walked to her left and looked with her. "Pretty, huh?" she added.

"Yes," he breathed.

It grew much colder right then and there, causing Sophie step back, hold her arms against her chest and shiver. She looked up at the sky and saw snow tumble down to the surface. "What the—?" she breathed.

"Whenever Pan's gone, it turns into winter," he said. "No matter the actual season."

"The climate of an entire island depends on the presence of a boy?" she said. "This was in movies, but I've been here for a good…four hours and it's pretty different. And yet it's not. Weird." She shivered and muttered, "It's cold and I'm wearing a_ sweater_."

Captain Hook took off his maroon long coat and put it around her shoulders. It was much bigger than she was and smelled faintly of cologne, tobacco and rum, but it was warm enough. The weight loosened her tensed muscles as she slid her arms through the sleeves. "Thanks," she said. She then looked back into the tree and observed, "Hey, they're still going. Do they not get cold?"

"Perhaps not," he said. She allowed herself to look at him as he added, "Dancing may keep them warm." He chivalrously bowed. "May I have this dance?"

That was a first. Sophie couldn't honestly say she had an actual boyfriend…or love interest for that matter. There were drunkards in the streets of NYC who would see her walk by, waddle towards her and garble, "Nice shoes…wanna fuck?" That was flirting to her. She had repressed the realization that he was flirting with her the entire time. He was a chivalrous individual in general, but why would he be so gallant towards _her _in general? Why would he trek into the woods just to see her again? She didn't have something he wanted. He must have liked her. Everybody knew _she _did. Her thinking before responding was keeping him waiting. She never danced with anyone before. She didn't know how. "Uh, that's really nice of you," she muttered. "Erh…I've never—"

The music turned into eager sounding bells. She looked at the tree and saw all the fairies gathered around the hole, as if encouraging her to accept. She tensely chuckled, shrugged her doubts away and wrapped her fingers around the flat end of his cold metal hook that was not dangerous. He put his left real left hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. All that was left to do was for her to put her free hand on his shoulder, so she did. The pleased fairies gathered around and the music came back as the fairies resumed dancing. The second Captain Hook moved his feet, Sophie was completely captivated by him. Her breathing had steadied and her joints had finally relaxed. When she caught his brooding azure eyes, she couldn't think about how much she hated Peter Pan and yet wanted him to be her father, nor say anything awkward in a sad attempt to calm herself down. She just dove right in, as if it were the sea itself, and thought of nothing else. It could have been two seconds, minutes or hours when she realized they were both flying because she was going higher. She gasped softly and held on a little tighter so not to float away. He simpered and did the same. The fairies, she noticed, watched in delight and slowed down their dancing but not the music. This moment was sort of perfect. She wasn't thinking hard enough to kick herself for blurting out in a soft whisper to make this moment fairytale perfect, "_Kiss me_."

She snapped out of her fangirl-dazed state for one second and was about to fall down, but stopped when he obeyed. He smashed his amazingly smooth lips against hers, tightening his left arm around her waist and throwing his other arm around her upper body to keep her close. Her eyes widened in shock but immediately closed after letting out a little moan. The cynical, deep-thinking part of her mind fought for attention over her enjoyment, and somehow got her to think while enjoying this, _holy fucking shit, Sophie, you're in your favorite alternate universe smooching the lips off your favorite villain who can kill you right now with his signature weapon that is attached to his body if he wants. Sophie, you're in danger_. The other side of her who was enjoying this too much to care replied, _You've been stopping me from doing what I want for a very long time. Let me have this_. And the deep-thinking side obeyed. This lasted for a while, getting more passionate by the second, but came to a saddening halt when in the distance there was eager battle cries and screaming coming closer and closer. Through the trees came the Lost Boys and some young Indians. Sophie and Captain Hook fell down to the surface. Captain Hook was still holding her off the ground and luckily he landed on his feet. The fairies panicked and fled. Before Sophie could say anything, Captain Hook said, "We need to run." He didn't let her put her feet on the ground. He kept holding her tightly and safely the way he had been for quite a while and ran out of the woods, despite her meek protests. However, the Lost Boys and Indians shot rocks and arrows at them and one little pebble hit her head just hard enough to knock her out like a sissy.


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: There's very poorly written sex in this chapter.**

Sophie woke up in a room lit mostly by candles on a king-sized bed. Her head stung internally like a swarm of bees had gotten in there and stung their way out. The bed seemed to gently rock, which went about to soothe her back to sleep until she realized she wasn't in her grandmother's house, her dorm or anywhere she had been before. She turned her head and noticed a white card on a nightstand next to what had to be her glasses. They were. She put them on and sighed in relief when she realized she was still wearing her clothes, minus the coat and boots that didn't need to be on every second of every day. She then read the white card that was written in elegant cursive.

_Dr. Taylor,_

_ If you are reading this, you are now awake and aboard the Jolly Roger. I am on the main deck, which you will enter through the door at the other end of the room. To your left is the door to a water closet if you need it. Please find me when you are prepared_

_Yours,_

_ Jas. Hook_

Out of sheer curiosity and appreciation of his patience, she took a peek in the bathroom. The walls and floors were made of wood and it wasn't much to look out, but it wasn't absolutely disgusting. There wasn't an actual toilet, but not a grimy bucket she imagined. A seat attached to a clean chamber pot served as the can. There was actually a sink and a small bathtub that disposed seawater; she realized when she tasted a bit. Compared to what she imagined the rest of the crew had to suffer, this was luxury. Sophie exited the bathroom and before going on the deck, opened her bag that she found by the bed. She took out her pocketknife and put it in the pocket of her skirt. The deep-thinking parts of her made her do it, not the part of her that bravely told her favorite literature character ever to kiss her the other night. The other part must have just woken up and not cared. She went up the three steps that led to the door and opened it. Outside it was nighttime and rather cold, but no snow or ice. The moon was full, shining abnormally bright. There were also so many stars, more than she had seen in one place in her life. Everywhere she had been was so light polluted that it was impossible. But this was Neverland, and so far nothing proved to be impossible. She walked down the decks staring at the unfamiliar sight, forgetting why she came out. The moon and the stars called her, saying, _hey, Sophie, remember us? Yeah, we exist. Look at us. Look how pretty we are_. Just as she approached the middle of the deck, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her torso. "Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice purred in her ear.

It was Captain Hook. She didn't have to look at his face or at his right arm to tell. She had been in his arms before and it was not easy to forget how wonderful it felt. There were no words this time, though. She couldn't open her mouth. The sight was too stunning and the individual behind her wasn't doing anything to help, just making it worse by existing. She managed to nod.

Captain Hook seemed to realize his female guest was in a trance. There were so many things he could do now, or could have before when she was unconscious in his arms. All of these things, however, were too expected of him. He was the scourge of the sea, had killed many a man, and yet he was first and foremost a gentleman and strived to maintain that unlikely title. However, it would be obvious to a complete stranger that he wanted her. His archenemy Peter Pan was nothing right now to him, and nor to her because she was also very angry with him. He could have taken her right then and there. Lord knows he wanted to. But he didn't. He'd have to wait. He just tightened his grip around her with his left hand and moved his right hand, or hook, to gently put a strand of her soft mahogany hair behind her ear to expose her neck. It was a risky move, kissing her gently on the neck, but he couldn't resist. It was easy to tell that she was inexperienced, but that didn't matter to him. He'd teach her, if she let him. Luckily, she reacted very well. He felt her relax in his grip, and even heard a little moan escape her sweet lips. And then she spoke. "I don't get you," she stated abruptly.

He raised an eyebrow, but she didn't look at him. She just kept staring at the moon and let him hold her. "I beg your pardon?" he said.

"I don't understand you," she repeated just as blankly. "I did this really intense character analysis on _you_ one time. Children, I found, learned to hate you because they're only able to think of you in one way. They're impressionable and believe what they're taught. And you _are _a villain; that much is true. And yet, you do have emotions."

That was the first time he had heard that from anybody. Being known as a heartless, hardly human villain almost led him to believe that he wasn't human. "Do I?"

"Yeah," she said. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be after Peter Pan. If you couldn't be angry, you would just leave him alone. And if you could only be angry and never happy, you would have killed yourself by now. You don't like living like this, but you won't put yourself out of your misery. Because you have hope. The entire class found out that their villains had emotions, but I guess I went really deep in because after asking around the Internet and spending all night writing a ten-page paper about it, I got the highest grade. And I spent so many years neither happy nor sad. Just determined enough to stay alive. And now I'm here, I've been so angry about everything. My emotional mind has taken over, pushing aside the cynical, deep-thinking part of me that was in charge for a really long time. You're more passionate than I am. It was that emotional mind that keeps me here, that prevents me from taking out my knife and cutting you up into pieces. Where I'm from, a person you met _yesterday_ can't hold you like this, no matter how much you like them. It's creepy. And I really am creeped out right now, but my new emotional mind is pushing it back because it hasn't felt this before. It's loving it. And your emotional mind is working, too, because you haven't raped and/or killed me yet. You're emotionally stronger than me. That's amazing." Her hand wandered up to his left arm, curiously feeling for a pulse. Absolutely nothing. "And you don't have a pulse."

That much was true. "As much as I live, breathe and bleed, I lack a beating heart," he told her.

"Creepy," she muttered blankly.

His left hand drifted towards her heart and pressed against it, over her sweater. She breathed a little heavier for him and he breathed, "I feel it."

"You're able to have emotions and you don't have one, while I just dug them up but have had one forever," she scoffed. "You're one lucky-ass villain, you know, Captain Hook."

"James, my dear," he said.

"Huh?"

"James. Address me as James."

She smiled a little, but didn't turn to face him. "Cool. Then call me Sophie. Dr. Taylor's just a formality, but I guess we're done with that."

He had no words. He just kissed her neck again and she said, "You have more emotions and vulnerability than Peter Pan. He doesn't seem like he can love. I never figured out if you could so…can you?"

He turned her around to face him. Before she could say a word, he pressed his lips against hers, holding her a little closer against him. She didn't mind. She threw her arms around his shoulders and neck and pulled his head closer, if that was possible. He skimmed his tongue over her lips after a moment, begging for access, and she let it in. It was almost as if the cynical, deep-thinking part of her had never existed and she had always been an openly vulnerable butterfly. When their lips finally separated, he took a chance and whispered, "Would you like to find out even more?"

Both the emotional and cynical part of her had considered this for a very long time, and there was no fighting. "Yeah," she replied. "Yeah, I…really would."

He smirked and led her back into his room. An unfamiliar feeling of excitement, anticipation and apprehension overtook her. It wasn't going to stop her from anything, but it did worry her. As he laid her down on the bed, she said timidly, "Uh, just so you know…I haven't."

That was clear to him. "I know," he purred before kissing her ear.

She chortled. "Yeah, I thought so."

James smirked as he slid her sweater and undershirt off her. She appeared much thinner without the baggy clothes. He kissed her chest, feeling her warmth and soft untouched skin against his lips. Her bones melted into the mattress as she exhaled. "So soft," he breathed as she tore off his black poet shirt and threw it on the other side of the bed. He wore a brown metal harness on his right arm that held his hook in place; she noticed when it was off. He sat her up only a little to unclasp her bra in one move. She was now, for the first time, fully exposed to somebody from the waist up. He smiled down at her as he let her back down. His left hand grasped one of her breasts before it reacted to the cold while his hook reached under the other and pushed it towards his mouth. Her eyes widened as she noticed what he was doing. His tongue circled around it before beginning to suck it. She grasped the ivory sheets under her and sharply inhaled. Something made her hold her breath, he realized, and he said to her, "Just relax, my beauty."

She obeyed. "S-sorry, I'm just…nervous."

He smirked at her again. "Don't be," he said before kissing her lips. "I'll be gentle, but you may find you prefer it rough in the near future." He kissed her again and his mouth and hand swapped positions. She breathed heavily and allowed her eyes to close. When he finished with her chest, he moved down to her skirt and leggings. He slipped all three remaining layers off. She shivered from the cold drafty room as he took his time taking off his boots. He saw her react and chuckled. "Excited, are we?" His boots were off and he put his still clothed knees between her legs. His left hand on her right thigh, he said in almost a command, "Open for me."

She lifted her head and widened her eyes at him. "What?" she exclaimed.

"You heard me, love," he said flatly. "Spread your legs. Or do I have to myself?"

Slowly and unsurely, she obeyed him. He smiled as he slowly went in. She held onto the sheets under her a little tighter as she felt his warm breath against her secret flesh and grunted. He spread her a little more with his fingers and then slipped his tongue inside. She looked straight up at the ceiling above and croaked, "Sweet _fucking_ Christ."

Just one poke at a certain area in there was enough to make her scream, but her wrist went to her mouth before she could. James looked up and gently pulled her hand down, "No, my love," he breathed. "I want to hear you. Don't be afraid."

She breathed heavily as he went back to work. Her legs trembled as he continued and she didn't let go of the sheets. Her lips quivered as a burning sensation began inside her and she realized what was about to happen. "Oh, god, James—"

"Go ahead," he said.

She exploded into his mouth, moaning louder than she imagined she'd ever do in her life. And she did. He licked her clean and purred when he went back to her level, "You taste so good."

Four words she had read in fanfiction but never dared to write, and never thought she'd hear. What was there to say? Thank you? That was kind of gross, but it was pleasurable. He kissed her again, acknowledging the fact that she had no words, and said as his hand went to the waistband of his breeches, "I think you're ready now, my beauty."  
Her eyes widened. "For what?" she asked innocently.

He smirked. "I am going to penetrate you now, love. I warn you that it will hurt for a moment, but I'm certain that pleasure shall override the pain."

"All right," she murmured nervously.

He took off his pants and she couldn't look at him. She could just tell that he was large when the tip of him grazed where his mouth had previously been until sliding slowly in. "Ready?" he said.

She took a breath, tightened her grip on the sheets and nodded without opening her eyes or mouth.

Although it wasn't quite _without warning_, it happened fast and violently. There was so much to put in, but it got in. Her chest was still pounding up and down from her heavy breaths as she said, "T-that was good."

"Shall I proceed?" he purred.

"Yeah," she replied. Quickly, she added before he could move, "But…go fast. I'm ready."

He raised an eyebrow. He didn't think her to be weak, no, not at all. But this prepared this soon? That only made it more exciting. However, he wasn't ready to dive right in. He began thrusting faster each time, making her breathe heavier and heavier each time. He kissed her chin as he sped up and she began to quietly moan. "Y-you sure no one'll be…_concerned_?" she grunted between moans.

He kissed her lips. "Don't worry, love." He kept going. Her quiet moans grew louder and louder, and she eventually found herself holding onto him for her life as he thrust in and out, over and over again until they both burst.

James pulled out of her and lay at her side. She propped herself up by her elbows and said after wiping perspiration off her forehead, "I just had sexual intercourse with a fictional pirate captain."

"Have you _just_ began to comprehend this?" he chortled, putting his left arm around her.

She shrugged as she nestled into him. "I dunno. Just a little reality check. Probably gonna be doing a lot during my time in this place."

He stroked her hair gently as he said, "Sophie, how long do you intend to stay here? You found your way here and as long as you know how to fly, you can get yourself out when you wish."

"I'm not done yet," she said. "No. Not until I kick Peter Pan's ass. Not until I see him cry, I'm talking _really_ hard. He can, can't he? He doesn't need a heart to. He's just a kid." She sighed and realized what made this goal especially unrealistic. "Yeah, I don't have a place to crash in the meantime though so…don't know what I'm doing."

"Stay here," he said quickly.

She looked at him. "Hmm?" It was her understanding that it was bad luck to have a woman on board.

"Join us, Sophie," he said. "We certainly have enough room for you. Perhaps I—_we_, could also assist you on your quest."

The cynical, deep-thinking part of her had been sleeping for the past passionate hour or so and now it was wide awake and cranky. She scoffed. "You're looking for just a wench, aren't you? I'm not doing a bunch of pirates' cooking and cleaning."

"Did I ask you to do anything so degrading?" James replied sharply, putting the cynic in her at ease. "No. You have better things to offer than that."

"I do?" she said blankly. "Outside the bedroom?"

He chortled and held her a little closer. "I hope you don't mind, love, but I browsed through your book and found myself quite intrigued."

The notebook in her bag that she brought contained only scraps—hardly even stories. Just passages that she'd write down and save for a rainy day. They were neither happy nor sad. But her actual writings that he had yet to read were merciless. "I don't write happy fairytales, James," she said. "What you were reading, which I'm fine with, by the way, are just little pieces that I sometimes incorporate in real things and others just because I'm bored and need to write because it's what I do. That stuff that gets lucky enough to be included somewhere turns out really sad. My roommate was my beta reader for short stories and I started to have to do stuff for her to read them because they'd make her cry really hard. I mean, half of the floor started knocking one time. That's a lot of people."

"I was entertained," he said. "I give you a choice, Sophie. I'll still shelter you, but the crew—"

"I know happier stories that I didn't think up and they haven't heard of. But you want me to put in some of my own? Do they like depressing, dark stories of really morbid, sad stuff? Because that's all I know how to do," she said.

"They love it," he replied truthfully. "A story is a story and they'll give you their full attention."

"Cool," she said. "I'll take the job, then." And then she realized she hadn't told James why she came to Neverland. "Hey, I never formally told you why I hate Peter Pan so much."

"I made sense of the matter when I heard who your mother was," he replied. "And I can see why."

She sighed. "I bet my right hand he wasn't nearly as good in bed as you are."

He snickered. "In that case, you'll still have both your hands for the rest of your life."

"And I won't take them for granted," she said. "I promise you that."

She yawned. She was obviously very tired. "Why don't you sleep now, love. You've done a lot tonight, and there will be more on the morrow."

"That I did," she sighed. Sophie took off her glasses and put them on a nightstand on her right. She and James then got into the most comfortable position possible with each other. When they were settled, James kissed the back of her head and whispered, "Good night, my love."

She breathed out with a smile and replied before drifting swiftly to sleep, "Night."


	6. Chapter 6

Sunrays bled through the circular windows on the left side of the room, stinging Sophie's eyelids as she began to wake up. As she stretched her torso in a lying position and yawned, she felt for her glasses on the right. Something that was light like paper fell. When she found and put on her glasses, she found a new piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up and read,

_Dearest Sophie,_

_ I'm out on the deck now. Come out whenever you are ready. Feel free to take a bath first._

_ Yours,_

_ James_

Also on the nightstand was a bowl of fruit, she noticed when she looked up from the paper. She smiled and picked out an apple as she got off the bed, not caring for once that she was naked, and into the bathroom. She turned on the water as she munched the able to a core, and by the time it was filled the apple was finished. She bathed as fast as she could but when she was done didn't have a towel. "Crap," she grunted as she got up. She rushed out of the bathroom and to her bag that still contained her change of clothes. She dressed quickly and put her damp hair into a bun tightly behind her head. Fully dressed and ready to meet the crew, she exited the room.

The sun burned her wide eyes, making her have to shield her face with her forearm. She looked down a little to not have the sun sting her eyes, but stopped in her tracks when she saw the crew pull out their guns and swords. She surrendered her hands up, the sun no longer bothering her, and said, "Uh…I…I can explain."

"Put those away and show some respect for our _guest_, please," James, who was behind her at the wheel, snapped.

The crew reluctantly obeyed him. James took her hand gently with his left and said sharply. "Everyone, this is Dr. Taylor. She—"

Some of the pirates got excited, pulling up their sleeves or pants and exposing wounds or blisters. "I'm not that kind of doctor," she called. "But I can tell you that most of you need to take it easy on those and make sure you don't damage them any further."

"Well…what kind of doctor are you?" a pockmarked faced man with a raspy Cockney accent said.

"I spent five years studying literature at Columbia University in New York City," she said. "They give you fancy titles for working your ass off for that long. I also know stories, so…that's what I'm doing here." She peeked at James and whispered playfully, "Among other things."

He smirked at her and another pirate said excitedly, more like a little boy than the dirty middle-aged man he was, "Well, can you tell us one now?"

The crew expressed agreement and Sophie said, "Sure, why not." Giving it some thought, she muttered, "Perhaps I should start with something light." She sat on the steps leading to a lower deck as the crew looked at her while doing simple tasks they didn't have to pay much attention to while they listened. She said the first thing that came to her mind and trusted it. "Uh…a girl named Katniss Everdeen lived in a country called Panem a few thousand years in the future. Panem had a strange annual tradition in which each of the twelve districts sent a boy and a girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen into a so-called _pageant_ in which they would fight to the death under the eyes of the entire country. This contest was called The Hunger Games."

Peter Pan spent all night thinking about the lady who claimed to be his and Marie Taylor's child. Before returning to Neverland after bringing Danielle back home, he went to Marie's house to find every window locked and shut. In fact the whole place looked deserted. But in her parents' bedroom was an open suitcase. Someone had been there, but was gone. He returned to Neverland and saw she and _Captain Hook_ dancing with the fairies that used to be his friends, and now was allies with Hook. Out of rage, he sent the Indians and the Lost Boys to attack them, but somehow they got away. The Indians asked why he made them attack after and because he couldn't come up with a good answer; his only allies were now in the Lost Boys. The mermaids weren't anyone's friends or enemies, but they'd talk to him. He went to see them as the sun began to set. On the journey to the cove at which they would communicate with other species, he tried to remember how she looked. She looked a lot like Marie's mother Daphne and Marie. But the eyes, they were exactly like his. He didn't recall ever doing anything that would make something like her appear, and therefore he couldn't imagine her possibly being related to him at all. But the eyes stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Salutations, Peter Pan," a mermaid hissed, her voice echoing throughout the cove.

Peter looked her in her black beady eyes and said, "Do you know of another Taylor girl? Is she still in Neverland?"  
Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to think, but she knew. "Sophie Taylor is aboard the Jolly Roger."

His eyes widened. "Is she a captive?"

"No," the mermaid replied. "She is there on her own will. The crew addresses her as…_Doc_. She is well-liked and happy." The mermaid looked at him square in the eye and added flatly, "How do you feel about your daughter kissing him?"

His hands clenched into fists. "Who?"

"Your daughter, Peter Pan," she said. "Is about to do what you did with her mother to create her."

"W-what did I do?" he said.

The mermaid scowled at him, but mermaids never smile anyway. "Are you truly this ignorant, Peter Pan, or are you just in denial?" His lips tightened. She added, "And she has done it before with him."

"No!" Peter exclaimed.

The mermaid slowly sunk back into the water. He wisely refrained from pulling her back out again and demanding more information. He just got up and walked back home.

The crew, and Tinkerbell who joined a little later, had gone out drinking as the sun went down after dinner when Doc, as they called their guest, finished her thrilling story about The Hunger Games. Peeta and Katniss got their happily ever after and that was all there was to it. To their dismay, Sophie just _had_ to be sober for this particular sunset. She had summarized the entire Harry Potter series in one day and needed rest. She leaned against the fence closing the forecastle deck and watched as the sun fell down to the water. She forgot that James had said he'd meet her eventually because he had something he had to do. In fact, she had forgotten everything for the moment. All that mattered was the sun falling down and changing places with the moon. As the warm colors in the sky began to fade, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind and came back to the sweet reality that her favorite character in fantasy Captain James Hook was there. However, the obnoxious cynic that prevented her from doing many things in her life was also there and decided to ruin the moment. "Your real name isn't James Hook, isn't it?"

He replied, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sophie groaned. "There's a goddamn war going on in my head. One side wants to be vulnerable and emotional, the other wants to be the exceptional genius she always was and both's wills are strong."

He sighed. "I'd tell you, love, but I don't remember."

She turned her head to face him. "You don't remember your own real name?"

"I'm afraid not," he breathed.

"That…that sucks," she whimpered, still looking at him.

"Don't fret," he said. "I don't mind. There are more important things in my life than what my name used to be."

"But it's your _name_," she said, turning her whole body towards him. "Damn, I feel really bad for you."

"Don't, Sophie," he purred, putting a strand of her hair behind her ear with the cold edge of his hook. He tenderly kissed her nose and she let out a sigh in sensual satisfaction. Then she opened her eyes and said firmly, "What do you see in me?"

"I beg your pardon?" he said.

"Why are you being so good to me? Am I special or something?"

He kissed her lips and the cynic in Sophie fought with the emotional part to push him away, but lost. She threw her arms around his neck and held him closer. Her fist grasped some of his wild raven hair as his tongue swept over her lower lip. She let out a little moan without breaking the kiss as his cold left hand wandered under her sweater and T-shirt to unhook her bra. He released her lips and hissed, "I need to be inside you again." and then smashed his lips against her neck, making her groan in pleasure. The deep-thinking cynic was pushed out of the picture as they made their way to the bedroom again.

James took his shirt off as he closed the door behind them. Sophie got on the bed and didn't have to wait two seconds for James to join her. He held her in a tight grip and aggressively kissed her lips. Once they both ran out of breath, he moved down her neck as she grasped the sheets below her and moaned at the touch of his lips. He chortled a low, amused chortle and slid off her bra. He held her back against his chest and ran his fingers across the soft skin of her bosom. He kissed her bare shoulder and slid her jeans off. She turned to face him and did the same with his breeches. They were both completely naked in each other's arms and he began to grind his hips against hers. She released a longing moan as he slid into her, getting faster with every inch. Once he was all the way in, she commanded hoarsely, "Move."

He gave her a mischievous smirk. Knowing that she wanted it hard, he delightfully obliged with one hard and fast thrust. She let out a feminine moan and he did it again. He went harder and harder and she got louder and louder until they both exploded and collapsed into each other's arms.

He pulled out of her and she made herself comfortable in his loving hold. She had one thing to say to him, but for some reason couldn't bring herself to do so. It was too weird. The side of her that rejected romance seemed to be dying, but was pleading for her not to tell him. But she had to. "I…" she muttered. Three strong words were on the tip of her tongue and were dying to come out, but her rectitude kept them in. The passion she stored inside her for so long made it pour out bit by bit. "I've known you personally for two days, Captain James Hook, but…I…" No turning back now. "I love you."

She somehow managed to look into his bold eyes bluer than the sea they floated on. They widened when those powerful three words came out. That was the first time he had heard anything close to that. He tenderly kissed her lips and purred, "I love you too, Sophie."

She sat up, the blanket covering her bare chest and said, "This is really weird. You don't say _I love you_ to someone you've known for two days. And having sex with them within the first few hours of acquaintanceship, that makes a girl a hussy. I'm a _doctor _of _literature_. I'm a freaking _genius_. And James, I do _love_ you, I just feel really weird about myself."

He pulled her back down to a lying position. She sighed and let her tensed muscles relax. He stroked her hair with his left hand and said, "You feel the way you feel, love, and there's nothing you can do about it."

She narrowed her eyes into the space above. "What would Grandma think? She didn't approve nor disapprove of my mom…y'know. What would she think of _this?_"

James recalled the occasions Daphne Taylor, or back then Daphne Walker, came to Neverland. Most of the young, unsuspecting pretty girls Pan brought over cowered every time he came near and Pan would pretend to not be afraid and impress her. Daphne, however, was a curious child who wanted to know everything about everything; so much that it almost drove him mad when he was near her. He hadn't seen her since she was about thirteen and still a mere girl. There was a beautiful woman in his arms now, and now that he thought of it, she was a lot like her. James probably wouldn't have treated Daphne like he did Sophie because Daphne was one hundred percent on Peter Pan's side, but they were relations and not very different. "I wouldn't know, love," he told her. "I only spoke to her once, and not for very long."

"She tried in vain to incline me towards Peter Pan, but…as you can see," Sophie chuckled. He got a better look at her smile this time—not that she wasn't in a state of euphoria earlier, but now there were no distractions and he had a moment to admire her. When she was done laughing, she continued on a more serious note, "My grandfather would probably be really upset but it was hard to not piss him off. And my mom…I really don't know. I hardly remember her. Do you?"

Ah, yes, Marie Taylor. She wasn't nearly as intelligent as her mother, or daughter for that matter, and enjoyed adventuring just so she could get into trouble and become the damsel in distress. What would she think of her estranged daughter's love affair with him? He recalled her saying he was _old, alone, done for_. Pan brainwashed her. She had nothing to say to him, really. "To be honest, I haven't the faintest idea what she would think."

"If she _somehow_ came back for me, apologized for abandoning here and promised to make it up for me on the condition that I leave you, James," she said. "I wouldn't." Sophie realized that he was always the first to initiate kisses, except that wonderful first time she commanded him to. She turned her body to face him and shyly kissed his lips. She felt him smile under the kiss before he gently pushed her head closer. She pulled him to an upright position and moaned when he sucked gently and slowly on her lower lip. He stroked her cheek as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Eventually, they both ran out of breath and fell asleep in each other's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter Pan was silent during supper with the Lost Boys and some of his Indian friends. He didn't even touch the repast the Indians generously served him and his gang. He could only imagine what Hook had been doing to Marie's daughter in the past week…because he didn't know what the mermaid was talking about when she said Sonia, Sophia, whatever her name was, "about to do what you did with her mother to create her." It sounded like a grown-ups thing that Peter wouldn't dream of attempting with anyone, not even Marie.

"Hey, Peter, why'd'ya look so glum?" Nibs asked.

Peter looked up from his distracted gaze at his lap and said, "Uh…Iono…just…thinking."

"Thinking?" one of the twins scoffed. That wasn't the Peter he knew.

"About what?" his brother added, equally appalled.

He clenched his hands together under the table as the eyes of his friends, Lost Boy and Indian stared at him. "I…I dunno…" He could tell them. They were his friends, after all. "That girl, that girl who came and claimed to be _my_ daughter…remember her?"

"No," three boys at once scoffed.

Of course not. They hardly remember any outsiders. It amazed him that they remembered Marie. He sighed. "Never mind," he growled.

"What about her, Peter?" Tootles asked. "Whoever she is."

"Well…I hear she's working for Captain Hook," Peter said. Now he had a decent excuse to attack Hook! "Hey, let's attack them! Tomorrow morning!"

The Lost Boys cheered and Peter said to one of his Indian friends, "Do you guys wanna come, too?"

"We don't fight pirates anymore, Peter," she said. "We only defend ourselves from them when we must. Especially after the false alarm you set. We don't have to right now."

Peter shrugged it off. Tomorrow morning he was going to win against Hook and get whoever she was out of his head.

After yet another long session of beautiful, passionate lovemaking with her boyfriend Captain James Hook, Dr. Sophie "Doc" Taylor had a terrible, awful dream because she forgot her grandmother.

Her grandmother rose from her new grave in this spooky dream. She didn't dig herself all the way out of the dirt with her bony hands that skin was chipping off of. Her limp, pale face came out and she hissed, "_You made a bad choice loving him, Sophie."_

Sophie bolted into an upright position on the bed, screaming, _"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_ until her awakened bedmate pulled her into his arms lying down. "Ssshhh, love, you were having a nightmare," he whispered. His voice was velvet. However, it didn't calm her down. She trembled and whimpered. "S-she didn't like it."

He held her closer, if that was possible, and replied softly and calmly, "Who and what? Let it out, it's all right."

He noticed a few tears run down her face. That was bad. Sophie was actually crying. "No, no, no, no," she said, scolding herself for being so visibly upset. She got out of James's grip and fell onto the floor. She curled into a fetal position and shook some more. The tears never stopped. She was upset, angry, frightened, depressed and worst of all, embarrassed. The man she was crying in front of was the first person since the day she was born to see her naked. He knew her for about nine days now and he knew her very well. And yet, she was afraid to cry in front of him, of all people. She noticed through her squinted eyes some light. He lit a candle on the bedside and then pulled her back up onto the bed. He folded his arms around her in a position in which she couldn't escape. She leaned her head on his left shoulder and sniffled. Some warm tears fell onto his bare shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and caressed the thin silk material covering her back. Yes, he was a villain. But he was capable of loving. He loved her. They were rarely apart in the past week, and yet when they were he always thought of her. He was truly in love with her. "I love you, Sophie," he said.

"I-in the dream," she muttered. "My grandma got mad." She peeked up from her shelter in his arms and said blankly, "I need to write it." He reluctantly released her and she retrieved her notebook that sat untouched on a shelf in the corner. She then went outside, leaving her lover puzzled in the dimly lit room.

He checked a clock on the nightstand. It was two in the morning. It was probably rather cold out there, and she left in only a short nightdress. Shaking his head, he put on his black dressing gown and dug out a red one for her among the things he had lying around from pillaging that fit her. He then exited his cabin and found her sitting on the steps leading to the main deck, obviously immersed in her writing already. He put the robe around her shoulders but she didn't even look back at him. She had scribbled almost an entire page. He decided to leave her alone to work, knowing from his encounters with her ancestor Jim Barrie that writers worked in mysterious ways and were best not disturbed. He went immediately back to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

Sophie wrote until the sun came up. It didn't take her even five minutes to write down her dream in vivid detail. She wrote a short story about an interaction between a living girl and her dead grandmother. She finished it by the time the sun had risen and the dark sky speckled with stars turned bright blue and hosted some pure white clouds.

_The silhouette of Granny faded away into the graveyard like steam, and the last tear I'd ever shed fell down my face._

Sophie closed her book and breathed as if she hadn't before, until she heard something that wasn't the regular bustle of the people on the harbor every morning at sunrise. It was whispering coming closer and closer, and foosteps smacking against the dock. It was too distracting for her to notice Tinkerbell come to her ear and exclaim, "Sophie! They're coming! They're out to get you!"

And then Peter Pan came flying up onto the deck. He didn't notice her there. He just lifted his friends up one by one. His friends, however, noticed the old lady just staring at them, and were too frightened to say, "Hey, Peter, we've got company" until Peter turned around and saw her with his own eyes, which were exactly like his in every way. "Lovely morning to encroach on someone's ship, hmm?" she said coolly. The part of her that wanted to snap Peter Pan's neck decided to wait, and trust the other part of her that contained her instincts.

"You," he hissed.

"Yeah," she replied. "Me. James is probably sleeping right now, and so's the rest of the crew. So…uh, are you gonna pester me today or are you just gonna flee?"

Curly trembled before her. "Peter," he whispered to Peter Pan. "She's scary."

Peter Pan scoffed and pushed his scaredy-cat friend away as he approached her. He didn't take it out, but he had his hands on his knife attached to his belt. "What are you doing here?"

She warmly smiled at him. "Wow. You're being my father and trying to make me steer clear of the wrong guy. At least you never had to do this until now." She shrugged. "Well, really, once you get him in private, he's a nice guy."

He scowled. "What makes you think that?"

"I've been living here for the past week, telling stories of modern and classic culture from my world to his crew and rolling in the hay with him every night because I want to," she told him.

"Rolling in the hay?" Slightly repeated. "What does _that_ mean?"

Peter looked to him and shrugged, causing Sophie to giggle. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak this way to kids. It's an adult thing that Peter once did with my mom to create me."

When she said _adult_, the Lost Boys expressed disgust. Peter groaned, stomped his foot and exclaimed, "You frustrate me so!"

She sighed and scooted over. She patted the stair she made room for and said, "Sit down, Peter. Let's have a talk."

"I'll stand," he spat.

"All right," she replied calmly. She looked him square in the eye and said appropriately firmly, "Peter Pan, _you_ frustrate _me_. Imagine spending twenty-five years not knowing who your father was and finding out at a very bad time. Well, Peter, you're older than twenty-five. Your story has been around since it went on stage in 1904. That's a really long time. And yet your voice is hardly even cracking. Claudia from _Interview with the Vampire_ had it better than you. Even though she was in the body of a five-year-old for sixty years, she got to see the world and some pretty interesting stuff. You're stuck where you are, fighting the same villain, hanging with the same people who rely on you like a father." She watched his face fall. He was about to cry. And although the revenge-bent part of her relished this moment, the emotional side of her that had just came out of its shell took over. She stood up and hugged the child who never grew up, who happened to be her father. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling his dirty yellow curls in her fingers. "I'm really sorry."

His warm tears fell onto the silk on her shoulder. She had her victory, and yet chose not to enjoy it because sympathy prevailed. This was until a pirate emerged from one of the doors and gasped when he saw Doc and Peter Pan in this position. He took out his gun and aimed for him, but his bullet just missed her arm. She gasped and stepped back, only to step on Peter's knife. "I can't do it," he sniffled to his friends.

Sophie fell onto the stairs again and watched the blood run from her foot. "Oh, sweet fucking Jesus," she exclaimed. There was one deep cut running down the middle of her foot.

"Oh, Doc, I'm so sorry!" the pirate squawked. He loaded his gun again for Pan and just before it hit him, she pushed him to the floor. "You dense motherfucker!" she grunted.

"Who, me?" Peter asked.

She groaned. "I'm talking to both of you."

James came through his door dressed in a black poet shirt, breeches and boots and grabbed Peter Pan the second he saw him near his Sophie. He pushed him against the edge of the ship, his hook against his stomach prepared to slice him open. "How _dare_ you," he snarled in his face.  
The crew came from the doors and skirmished with the Lost Boys. Sophie didn't care about them, though. Just her man and her father. She limped towards him and said without touching him, "James, let him go."

He looked at her foot. "What did he do?" he exclaimed.

She sighed. "I stepped on his knife because he was too scared to kill me when I completed my mission."

That made him angry. He pressed on him a little more, making him grunt. Sophie rolled her eyes and with one mighty pull, separated them. "Everybody, listen up!" she shouted. Everyone stared at her. She began to feel a little light headed, but still made her adlib speech to finally make peace between these two dueling groups of boys. Because deep down, they were all still and forever boys. "You guys have been fighting for more than one hundred years. There are people from my planet, most of which teenage girls, who write stuff about you guys and in all of them, no matter when they take place, you guys are all mortal enemies. But you all are actually real and therefore you make your own stories. Are you all in the least bit tired of this?" They all seemed to agree, even James. "Yeah. Nobody's winning, and nobody's ever gonna win because neither of you are better than anyone else. No matter how close you get, okay? It's time to end it."

She remembered the last time her grandmother exposed her warm, loving, maternal smile. She was probably still in her house! The funeral was in two days, but those may have passed! "I'll…be right back," she muttered. She gestured for James to follow her and he helped her inside after she picked up her book.

He put her on the bed and retrieved some bandages and healing rub. He sat down on the bed with her and began to wrap her foot and she said, "James, I want you to know that I love you, always have and always will. But I made a really brash decision coming here, and I have to go back."

He looked up at her. "What?"

"I might have missed my grandma's funeral. I need to take care of that. And…I finished my job here, I think. I made Peter Pan cry."

"Sophie," he said, his blue eyes burning into hers. "Are you saying you have to leave?"

"Kinda," she murmured. "I'll visit. I'll come back as much as I possibly can, James, but I need to be there. I—"

"How you got to Neverland yourself, Sophie," he said. "Is beyond me. There's no telling whether you'll remember the way back. And I'd visit you, I certainly would, but even I can't quite tell the time difference between here and there." He kissed her fingers and continued, "I have no right to trap you here or anywhere, but I'm just warning you for both of us."

There was no stopping the tears this time. They came down like rain. She threw herself at him and for the first time in a lifetime sobbed. "I love you!" she wailed. "I don't want to lose you! I—"

There was never a time Captain James Hook didn't know what he was doing. He may have been one to improvise, especially with her, but he always bore in mind the principle of causation. He was about to say something that some men like him would long regret, but he would never. "What if I came with you, Sophie?"

She lifted her head. "What?" she responded.

"Sophie," he purred, stroking her face. "I love you. You complete me. I want nothing but you to be happy, but could I possibly be happy _with_ you?"

Her mouth dropped. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about but you're acting crazy, James."

He got down on one knee, sandwiched her hands between his hand and the flat and harmless end of his hook and said, "Sophie, my love. Be my wife. Take me back to London with you, adjust me to your times. I can manage. Marry me, Sophie Taylor."

Sophie knew very well that he wasn't being spontaneous. It wasn't like him. He meant it. He loved her. And she wanted to be with him forever, and here was her chance. "Okay," she said with a smile. She pulled him up and leaped into his arms. They shared a passionate kiss and once they were out of breath, they ran out of the cabin to the waiting crowd of pirates and little boys who would never grow up. Sophie exclaimed, louder than she had ever spoken in her entire life, "We just got engaged!"

The pirates and Tinkerbell cheered for their captain and Doc, and some smiles came from the Lost Boys. Peter Pan, however, just stared in shock. James Hook left Sophie's side and approached him. "Am I expected to ask you for permission, _Mr._ Pan?"

"Where are you gonna live?" he asked.

"We're leaving," he said. "To London. She wants to go back, I want to go with her."

He sighed. "Promise you won't come back. And promise you'll give her a nice life, okay? Because she's actually kind of a nice girl."

He raised his left hand. "My hand to God."

Sophie approached Peter Pan. Her presence got his attention. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thanks. For existing."

He even smiled at her. "You're welcome."


	9. Chapter 9 (Five Years Later)

The boy's tired eyes stared into Sophie's. He tumbled out of her baby cannon only a few minutes ago, and therefore not only did he not have the maturity to speak, what would he say? She had to do the work. She had to talk. "How's it going?" she said. "Uh…I'm Sophie. I'm your mom. You…don't have a name yet…because you just came out from between my legs, but we'll fix that as soon as your dad comes in."

Speak of the devil. The door opened and two people came in. Her husband, Mr. James Hooke, and their four-year-old daughter Claudia. She beamed at the sight of her mom and ran up to her bed. "Claudia, darling," he called, his prosthetic right hand going forward. "Settle down, she needs to rest."

Claudia took that in mind. She carefully climbed onto the bed with her mom and sat down. She looked at her new baby brother and squealed, "Oh, he's the cutest baby brother I could ever have!"

James kissed his wife's forehead and she pointed out aloud, "He looks a lot like his grandfather."

James raised an eyebrow at her. "Does he? Let me see." She handed him the baby and he didn't have to stare at him for very long to realize it. "You're right, love. A spitting image."

Claudia, who had yet to learn who this guy they talked about sometimes was, said, "Then why don't we name him that? Whatever his name is."

Sophie smiled at her daughter and pushed one of her raven curls behind her ear. "Good idea, kiddo." She reached over to the table at her side to take the birth certificate that had one thing left blank, but was too weak to reach. Claudia handed it for her.

_Full name of child: Peter James Hooke_.

The baby started crying, probably for food. James and Sophie traded the things in their hands. James examined the paper and said, "Oh, marvelous, Sophie, we have _two_ children named after fictional children who never grew up."

"The new one's not fictional, mind you," she giggled.

"What?" Claudia said. She knew she was named after one of the vampires from a book series her mom was obsessed with, but her brother? She read the latest addition to the paper and realized for the first time what they were talking about. But it didn't make sense! "My grandfather…is Peter Pan?"

Sophie smiled at her husband and then a different one at her daughter. "We've been waiting for you to bring it up. You're ready to know now," she said. "It started…James, uh, when was it?"  
"Oh, dear, Sophie," he sighed. "Some hundred something years ago,"


End file.
